


No Illiac Furrow

by Elle82



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Character Study, First Time, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4585098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle82/pseuds/Elle82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exploration of Hannibal’s body, courtesy of one Will Graham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Illiac Furrow

From [this post](http://remy-thibedoux.tumblr.com/post/126647482235/duchessblack-i-wish-fics-went-into-more-overly) over on tumblr. I don't usually write first person POV, so hope it flows alright. Basically, it was a request for descriptions of Hannibal's bod. Hope I've done the idea justice :)  
  
...

The first time I saw Hannibal naked, we were at his house. He’d invited me over for dinner and with his food comes wine. Though I’d had plenty of meals with Hannibal and plenty of wine, this Friday night was  different.

It had been a long week. Bodies and blood and doing that thing I do. I was tired and sad. And a little randy. Hannibal insisted on cooking me dinner before the long drive back to Wolf Trap. But I never made it home.

Thankfully, I have Alana who knows where the spare key is and a quick text was all I needed to send to ask her to let the dogs out and feed them. I didn’t tell her it was because I was with Hannibal, too drunk to drive safely and that I was most likely not going to make it home. The message was tapped out on my phone painfully slowly to not raise any suspicions as to my state.

We were both full of delicious food and expensive wine. He had made a simple pasta dish followed by figs and honey for dessert. The honey had made my lips sticky and I licked them a lot, like Winston does. Then Hannibal kissed me. And I didn’t fight it.

He took my hand and pulled me upstairs. I felt out of my depth, so I took charge, undressed him and pushed him onto his bed. I think he liked it. And I think I felt like I had something to prove. I’m not a fragile little teacup, as Jack would have others think.

We had sex, dirtied his expensive sheets. I went down on him, he went down on me. I felt the softness of his body under mine and on top of mine. It was the kind of sex you have with someone you’ve only recently realised you wanted to have sex with, and you’re not entirely sure you’ll ever get the chance again, so you go hell for leather.

I didn’t sleep in his arms, nor he in mine. We kept to our own sides of the bed. But in the morning, I rolled over and looked at his body, naked. He was presenting almost.

Hannibal is a tall man. Not much taller than me to be fair, but there is something in him that stretches out of his body almost. There in bed, he looked entirely different.

He had grey fuzz covering his chest. I glanced down at my own barely hairy chest and frowned slightly. I’m in my late thirties and even now I can sometimes feel like a boy next to this man. His crotch was the same, a darkish thatch, sprinkled with grey. At least I’m not comparatively bare in that region.

My eyes trailed down to his stomach. It’s soft, but not fat. I am certain Hannibal knows his body, knows that if he wanted to have a six-pack, he would need to give up the foods he loves and/or spend hours a day in the gym. I like that he is not that vain. His stomach rises and falls with his breath. I want to reach out and stroke the soft flesh, but don’t want him to wake.

Hannibal stirs, and a hand comes to lie on his stomach. His hands are large. Neatly manicured fingernails. His hands are not as soft as I had first thought. When they roamed my body last night, when his right hand grabbed my cock from behind, I felt roughness. He may live the fine life but those hands know hard work.

It was at this point he woke, but kept his eyes closed. He asked if I was enjoying the view. I laughed and told him I did. He reached out to me and I allowed myself to be pulled into an embrace. I rested my head on his shoulder and laughed inside at the ridiculousness of it. I didn’t do this. I didn’t stay the night and cuddle in the morning.

My hand rested on his stomach, finally, and I was able to run it over the softness.

“You like my stomach Will?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What else do you like?”

He ran a hand through my hair. It was getting to the longish side of ridiculous. Too long, and I knew it got out of control. Too short and my ears stuck out, making me look younger. I don’t need that in my line of work.

I took one of his hands and held it in my own.

“Your hands. They’re not soft.”

“Thank you?”

“I mean, you’re a doctor. You go to the opera. You’re not a labourer”

“True. But I cook and therefore wash my hands a lot. Also I garden. Hence the hands.”

“Ah.”

“What else?”

I looked down towards he end of the bed, rubbed my foot up and down his shin, resting on top of his feet.

“Your feet. They’re masculine. Strong.”

He looked down. Smiled fondly.

“Ugly dancer’s feet.”

I was surprised. I didn’t even bother to hide it.

“You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. He brushed it back to join the rest of the blonde-grey strands.

“I danced in my youth back in Lithuania.”

“Really?”

“Really. But it is hard to make a living from it, as you can imagine.”

“You didn’t dance when you came out here?”

He shrugged, bit his bottom lip momentarily while he remembered and shook his head.

“No time for it when I got into Johns Hopkins.”

“Ah.”

He continued to stroke my hair. It felt nice, too nice. So I pushed myself up and rested on my elbows, facing him. He brushed my hair back and I pulled back again.

“Your hair is getting long Will.”

I reached forward and brushed his back, mocking him. I’d noticed at dinner the way it had covered the back of his shirt collar and kinked up a little at the ends.

“Yours too, Hannibal.”

It was strange to see his bedhead. Usually his hair was so perfectly coiffed. Now, it was messy and unkempt.

He smiled and I noticed his pronounced canine teeth. Not like Hannibal never smiled, but when he did, it was with his lips closed. I wondered if he was self-conscious about them.

I looked past him at the clock that sat on the bedside table. It was just after 8.

“I should go.”

I didn’t move.

“I could not let you leave without a proper breakfast Will. And coffee.”

Hannibal leaned up and kissed me, a lover’s peck on the lips. Then he practically leapt out of bed, energised, and began to get dressed. He picked up my clothes and placed them on the bed, pointed towards the bathroom.

“Take a shower, if you’d like. I’ll get breakfast started.”

Hannibal’s ensuite was bigger than my kitchen. I showered quickly, using some of the fancy looking liquid soap. I looked at my reflection and decided to get a haircut in the city before heading back to Wolf Trap.

By the time I got downstairs, Hannibal was finishing off some eggs and bacon, with bread on the side and two steaming cups of coffee. My stomach rumbled and I realised how hungry I was.

“This looks great.”  

We sat side by side again in the kitchen, eating and drinking, neither of us saying anything.

Hannibal had dressed in a maroon sweater and black pants. He looked more relaxed, more human than when he wore his suits. I preferred him this way. I wondered if he’d ever come out to Wolf Trap to go fishing with me. The image of him in waders made me smile in spite of myself.

“Something amusing Will?”

“No. Thank you for breakfast. And for last night.”

“You’re welcome. It was a pleasure. I do hope we can do it again.”

I smiled.

“I’m sure it can be arranged.”


End file.
